His hard face softened as though he was picturing those rolling hills and the laughter of children.
“I bet they adore their uncle,” she said softly.
“It’s mutual. They’re great kids.”
As he sipped his beer, she said tentatively, “It’s a long way from Seattle to Florida.”
His mouth tightened. Not with anger, but something more unhappy.
“Did…something happen to make you move?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, then sighed. “In a way. My wife had died. When I tried to get back into being social, I had a scene go bad, and then”—he motioned toward his leg—“I left the military. Seattle no longer felt like home at that point.”
“Well, you certainly chose to move a long way,” she said, then rubbed her head against his arm. “I’m glad you’re here, Finn.”
He pulled her closer. “Me, too.”
Chapter Fourteen
The new tech on the prosthesis Ghost had trialed had some excellent benefits, but the device had been unbalanced enough he’d strained his hip trying to compensate.
It was the downside of testing new equipment. Although he received a discount on anything he wanted to purchase, if something didn’t work, the guinea pig—him—suffered for it.
Then again, it was better if he discovered any problems. An older amputee might not bounce back as well from an injury the prosthesis might cause.
Back in his usual work prosthesis, Ghost rubbed his hip as he walked toward his military history class. This was a fun one with a fair number of ROTC students as well as upper grad history majors. Their questions and arguments kept him on his toes.
He smiled as he set the box on his desk and opened it. The scent of kleicha drifted out, catching the attention of his students. Young people were always hungry.
“We’ve been discussing the wars in the Middle East, and I was reminded today how easy it is to label someone we’re fighting against as ‘other’, to see them as lesser humans or even as evil. It’s more difficult—but more accurate—to realize we all have reasons to fight, and their reasons are, to them, as compelling as our reasons are to us. It’s even more difficult to remember that soldiers—or terrorists—are only a small percentage of a population.”
The frowns showed they were thinking.
“Hoffman, you’re from a small town. Let’s say you got sucked into some manipulative politician’s warmongering and went out and slaughtered a bunch of people. Would it be right for the world to blame your town? To think the residents had all agreed with you? To condemn them all because you were an idiot?”
His insult won laughter, then more frowns, then several students muttered, “No.”
“Excellent. One of the questions on the upcoming test will relate to the blame game, so keep your eyes open for examples you can pull from your reading. And in the future, remember soldiers on the other side also have families, have sisters and children. They have their special holidays and favorite foods.”
More nods. This really was a good class.
He grinned. “To drive home this lesson… One of the professors here grew up in the Middle East and was taught to cook by the local housekeepers. She made kleicha and gave me enough to share with you all. Like our Christmas cookies, this is a holiday cookie, and when I was in Baghdad, it was one of my favorite treats.”
The students surrounded his desk, and the cookies disappeared like magic. Homemade sweets, who could resist? Even better, the sweet professor had made enough he could keep some for himself.
After putting the quiz questions up on the display, he sat back and nibbled on his own cookie. In reality, he’d forgotten the half-joking request he’d made of Valerie.
She hadn’t.
Because she was an intelligent and caring woman, a combination he found far too compelling. She was also damned determined. The way she had buckled down to learn self-defense was impressive.
After her lessons, he could usually talk her into joining him for supper and then into spending the night.
At least at his place. When she’d cooked him a meal at her apartment, they’d made love, and then he’d gone home rather than stay over. Their relationship wasn’t at the point when she could tell him she needed time alone. At his place, she knew she could just depart when she was ready. Asking a man to leave was often difficult for a woman, especially a submissive one.
But he’d hated to leave. He liked waking up with her. Cooking breakfast with her, or if they had